THE SOTOPORTEGO DEL CASIN DEI NOBILI

The name is already a clue: the sottoportico is under an old "casino".

The "casini" were small apartments, or even just single rooms, where a certain crowd would gather, especially at night, for the most varied purposes: dancing, dining and music, but especially gambling.

There were examples of all types and for all social classes scattered around the city. Owning one was one of the most important status symbols for a nobleman. These casinos were extremely elegant places, especially in the eighteenth century, and were laden with gilt and stuccoes. In our case, though, it must have been a fairly modest casino: its guests were poor nobles.

They were called "Barnabotti" because the state owned the houses in the Campo San Barnaba area (our campo, onto which the sottoportico gives access coming from the Accademia) which it assigned to nobles who were in need of one. This was to allow them to live respectably and to safeguard the image of the ruling class.

Poor, yes, but in any case with a passion for gambling!

This seems an absurdity to us, but everything becomes clearer if you know a little bit about the history of gambling in Venice.

It must immediately be said that it was of cultural relevance to all classes. Its origins in this city go back a very long way and the story of how it officially entered the chronicles of the Republic is quite fascinating.

In 1172 three enormous columns were brought to Venice from the Orient to adorn the city and, given that these were war trophies, to make a show of its growing power. One of the columns was lost during unloading. The other two were laid down in Piazzetta S. Marco, right next to where they can now be admired: one bearing the winged lion, the other St Theodore'.

They stayed lying on the ground for a long time because no one knew how to raise those two very heavy granite giants without damaging them. An edict was even issued to find someone who would take on the risk. In the end a capable builder by the name of Niccolò Barattieri offered to do the job. He succeeded and the Doge offered to satisfy his any desire as payment. Barattieri asked for permission to gamble between the two columns and on the steps of their bases. The first gambling square "not room" in history was thus inaugurated.

From that time on, gambling became Venice's national "sport". Games of chance were played everywhere, but especially in the cafes. The elegant ones were those most fitting for the nobles, who had no problem winning or losing extraordinary sums of money in public because in any case they could conceal their identity behind a mask. By law this could be worn for almost half the year!

However, many nobles, as we have seen, preferred to create their own casinos where they could entertain the right people and create the relations and alliances necessary for political promotion. In 1744 there were a good 118, of which 114 were in the immediate vicinity of St Marks, or just a few metres from the offices where those same nobles conducted their government business.

Over the centuries the state made numerous attempts to limit gambling. In the end it realised that that was not possible and decided to at least reap some benefit: in 1638 the first public gambling house was thus opened. This was the "Ridotto" in San Moisè, it too just a few steps from St Marks Square. Thanks to this the Republic collected a huge flow of cash otherwise destined for private coffers. The "Ridotto" became one of the city's main attractions and had enormous international renown, alongside that of the Venetian carnival.

While the "Ridotto" was a truly luxurious building and open to all, the "Casin dei Nobili" of San Barnaba was modest. But its clientele was much more select, and thorough checks were made of those wishing to enter: go into the "sotoportego" and stop in front of the door that gave access to the casino. Look up. In the ceiling you'll see a square hole (light filters through from above at night) which was the rudimentary but effective peep-hole for checking the entrance.

A square hole in a ceiling may not seem much in itself, but to me that little spy-hole is very endearing. It must be the very last one in all of Venice and is more or less ignored by the thousands of people who go past it every day. How many things it must have seen, how many stories it could relate of a centuries-old tradition!

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